


The New Shadow

by Tomed



Category: Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor (Video Games), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Arrogance, Bigotry & Prejudice, Canon - Book & Movie Combination, Canon-Typical Violence, Chronic Pain, Drunk Thranduil, Family Feels, Father Figures, Flashbacks, Forgiveness, Grief/Mourning, Identity Issues, Leadership, Loss of Parent(s), Multi, Night Terrors, Orcs, POV Child, Panic Attacks, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Suicide Attempt, Political Alliances, Post-Canon, Post-Game(s), Responsibility, Sad and Sweet, Scars, Self-Acceptance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Tenderness, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-06-08 20:35:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15251544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomed/pseuds/Tomed
Summary: While dangers of old threaten to resurface from the depth of the earth, slowly allowing it's dark seed to grow within the heart of Gondor, a most unexpected soul finds it's way out of the scattered lands of Mordor -right into the very heart of the last realm of elves. But what was created in darkness does not have to share the same fate. For only the darkest skies can bear the brightest stars.





	1. Chapter 1

The first thing he remembered properly were the eyes of his mother. A bright green color with warm dots of copper just around the pupil. The slight wrinkles on her lips, formed to a heart-warming smile. Soft bright hair that falls in his face while she’s bend down to be able to reach him. And a distant memory of a melodic humming full of joy and love. A soft, almost thin voice whispering while a thick line of red blooded out of it _. “My son…remember that my love of you is deep."_

Grimacing he opened his eyes and blinked the tears away. Blinking yet again he got accustomed to his surroundings more properly. Right next to him sat a tall strange figure with long, light brown hair, entirely straight and well cared for. The very opposite of his own dark, chaotic mess. But the ears of the stranger were just like his: _pointy_.

The young elf couldn’t stop staring at them. Because there was only one possible explanation at hand, even though he could barely accept it as the truth: that before him really was another elf. And to his awe that one was clothed in beautiful layers of fabric that looked extremely soft and wealthy. His mother once had been wearing a dress similar like that. It was one of the most clouded memories he possessed, being one of his first in general and at the same time almost his last one of her. He always daydreamed of himself wearing such a beautiful dress for he wished with every ounce of his heart to feel close to her again. He misses her so much... 

The stranger said something and Nolaquen doesn’t even try to listen. He furrowed his brow, not really sure how to respond properly. And to be honest, he wasn’t keen on raising his voice just to be punished for that. He always got punished for his loose mouth before but right now the young elf wasn’t even sure where he was, how he got there or who that stranger before him was. Caution was maybe best. At least at the moment. For he knew best of his own Fëa’s wild and chaotic nature, gladly the exact opposite than that of his maker.

“...Can’t you understand me?”

The elfling just continued to watch the stranger even though he could indeed understand him now. The heavily embellished tunic the elf wore together with the blueish color in general forced him to constantly be reminded of his mother. It confused him almost more than his unfamiliar surroundings in general. All those fine looking decorations, the bed he was laying in, the wood carved with many pretty things maybe flowers he'd never seen before, but others seemed to be ornaments of some sorts and maybe even some writing, but he couldn’t read them.

The light came from a beautiful lantern which seemed to contain some form of magic. That possibility got him really excited all of a sudden. Sure, the orcs knew magic too, but theirs was a rough and simple one. He had been able to adapt of course, but his own magic differed much from those of his unwillingly teachers. He knew he could do more if he’d only be able to get to know _how_.

“I am Noruinif, I was the one that found you in the woods and brought you here.“

The healer got a bit worried for the elfling made no indication of being able to respond. Awful assumptions almost made him sick -what if the child could no longer talk due the removal of his tongue? Some orcs were known to do such a crime to their subjects... He cleared his throat eager to ignore his wild imagination, after all waking up in a foreign place like that must be very intimidating, he shall not assume the worst.

„….You must be pretty hungry.”

He shoved some plate over to the small elf, which contained green leaves and...other things, mostly green, too. The child wasn’t sure if that really was edible, but eventually decided that he shall not care for that. He was starved, his last meal had been before their journey out of Nurn and that had been a terrible long time ago. They had marched for days and many more days straight, only resting a bit when the sun had been at it’s highest.

Hesitatingly he stuffed oneself with those green thingies first, it didn’t taste that bad and not that great either but eventually it was better than nothing at all -the water though was extremely tasty. It was clean and cold, just wonderful! Balm for his scratchy throat. He drank that beautifully made pot empty immediately.

Smiling the strange elf got up.

“I leave you be, for I have to inform my lords of your whereabouts. Esgalanor will watch over you, you have nothing to fear, pen-neth.” (young one)

With doubt the young elf seized the woman the stranger was referring to. She was in green armor and looked like she really could handle herself quite well in battle, but he was confused as to why she would be standing there, watching over him like...like… He shook his head slightly. Those of his own sure were odd. Why would they feel the need of protecting him? Of giving him food? What are they hoping to gain from that?

Shaking his head slightly he concentrated on eating the remaining flat grass. Maybe she was there to make sure he stayed where he was and maybe the food or water was poisonous, with a similar effect than the drink of the orcs that made one’s tongue loose and eager to say everything that one would normally guard very well. He still liked that fire water though, at least it tasted better than the dirty mudd he and the other subjects would eventually be fed with. Besides it helped one to feel better.

After eating there was not much else he could do. And he wasn’t so sure if he was allowed to leave this place. That woman was announced as someone that would not harm him, but how could he know for sure? Sometimes such assurances were just used to manipulate one to feel safe. Just to be overwhelmingly surprised with something incredible cruel that cut right through one’s very soul. His masters had used many tricks to try to break his will. But for the love of his mother he endured it all.

Pain clouded his mind, the memories threatened to come back to the surface once again. Her snow-white skin specked with red. Her beautiful warm eyes wide open in horror. Her ragged pieces of clothes that had been a blue silky dress of the finest form almost entirely stained with the warm liquid -and parts of her exposed gut and loose stripes of bare flesh… Gagging he was about to lose that little bit of food he just managed to eat.

The door that once again was shoved open was a welcomed distraction, but it couldn’t force away the sweet yet agonizing smell in his nose nor the feeling of that warm elixir on his own hands. As casual as possible he rubbed them eagerly onto his- ...no longer existing pants? Blinking in confusion he looked down and just to be sure he lifted the blanket a tiny bit more, just enough to get that he indeed was naked.

Feeling ridiculously exposed he wrapped the thin blanket around his upper body. He was used on being forced to show his bare self against his wishes and much more than just that, but somehow the situation at hand was too unfamiliar to be able to deal with it properly. With his body now covered he examined those that entered the almost too bright room. Those before him now were...not easy to describe, because for him they were almost too much to really believe that he was actually seeing them for real. One prettier than the other. It was a sight he wasn’t used to. There was a silver haired elf that had a look in his eyes that spoke of wisdom beyond anything the little elf would dare to believe being possible, the sheer endlessness of their intelligence almost made him feel like drowning. He did not know much of others like himself, but he was pretty sure that this one was extremely old already.

“Well met,” he spoke to Nolaquen, placing his hand upon his breast and bowing his head slightly. “My heart is filled with joy that you are finally awake! -If I may ask, what is your name?”

The child remained silent for a moment, pondering about his options. But eventually his quick tongue got the better of him.

“...And who exactly is asking?”

He was kind of ashamed how thin and nervously high-pitched his own voice sounded in comparison to the calm and steady one of that old elf. As he could decipher from the shocked face of the woman in the background his answer was considered pretty rude for elves as well as it would have been for the orcs. But eventually the silver elf just smiled patiently, a reaction the elfling hadn’t expected nor could he comprehend it.

“I am Celeborn, son of Galardhon and Lord of the new-found East Lórien. At the moment you reside at the northern part of Eryn Lasgalen, the Wood of Greenleaves, realm of king Thranduil, which happens to stand right beside me.”

The elfling nodded slightly. Half of the words were too foreign to him to really grasp their meaning. His gaze met the other stranger before him that was introduced as the king of some realm he apparently was inside right now. That elf looked different than the other one. He was with golden hair that was also quite a bit longer and somehow thicker than that of the silver haired one. And his eyes… The young elf shivered, not sure what he felt right now. He was astonished by their beauty, for never before had he seen eyes like a clear blue sky. Their sheer depth was overwhelming -it was a deep, mesmerizing well of weariness and grief, woven within a cold layer of indifference.

Well, all in all he was kinda frightening and yet that elf was still astonishing in his fierce beauty. Especially because of those really pretty flowers on his head, woven onto some sticks in an organized manner, like a crown. A flower crown. Those colorful flowers were the first real ones the elfling was able to see. Even the dress of that pretty king was fitting for that fashion -most certainly representing the season of new life and the end of winter: spring, as it was called. That he got from the tales the men would sometimes tell to refresh one's memory when they had to wait in their cells until the guards were busy enough with feasting and drinking grog.

He never would have guessed that he would be able to see those things the men had talked about. He'd always imagined it of course. How the first real flowers would smell, how they would look. If they really were as pretty as the others said they were... With it he found it hard not to adore every tiny ornament he was able to determinate on this glamorous outfit that this elven king wore -and even more so to quit staring at him already!

The amused glance he got from that silver haired elf helped the young one to quickly avert his eyes, not without shame heating up his face. Something like that had never happened to him before and it frightened him, hindered him somehow in forming something eloquent as an answer -or something at all…

“I understand that everything may be a bit too much right now. I can only imagine what you may had to witness in your short period of life already and I certainly won’t force you to speak about it. You need time and this will be respected.”

That elven king still watched him in silence, it made the elfling extremely fidgety. He barely managed to remain on the same spot. He mumbled something even elven ears could not decipher properly. Mad at himself he straightened his composure, which resulted in his blanket falling off from his torso again but in his attempt of putting himself together he took no notice.

“...I am Nolaquen,”, he hesitated a moment before going on, “son of Lotilos, Lord of none...  Former possession of Azgesh the skinner, master of the northern fields of Nurn, well, now nothing more than one of many corpses floating inside that treacherous river we barely managed to cross.”

Both elves stood there with carefully guarded expressions, exchanging a look Nolaquen ignored with full intend. The elven king cocked his head a bit- inquiring.

“...I do not know any elven maid with that name.”

The little elf shrugged, not eager on meeting those pretty blue eyes after witnessing that voice of his for the first time with surprise. With such a look he did not expect that this king would have such a deep, intimating vocal tone.

“...You can't possibly know every single one of your kin in this world personally.”

Nolaquen couldn’t be sure, but supposedly there had been a glimpse of amusement in those blue eyes for a tiny moment.

“To your luck you seem to have a sharp mind for that quick tongue of yours... May I ask how old you are?”

The elfling was not sure what to think about that statement, but answered nevertheless.

“...I do not know for sure.”

The golden haired elf eyed him with a thoughtful expression.

“I guess nothing more than 30 years...”

The other one eyed him also.

“He’s kind of small, yes, but regarding the circumstances I strongly suggest he had a rather poor nourishment up until now, for he could very well already be older than that. But certainly no more than 100 years for sure.”

Feeling a little too much unpleasant things the little elf crossed his arms. It was hard to fight the anger back, even more so to try to extinguish it’s flame. He could not ignore the fact that he did not like that kind of talk, as if he was not worth of being addressed properly. Like his father had done so many times -out of his fear of growing too fond of him, yes, but it had been nevertheless hurtful.

-“I am _right here_ , you don’t have to talk about me like I’m not!”, his heart was racing but he would not take his words back.

“I am surprised…. Tell me, Nolaquen, Lord of none, how were you able to keep your insolent tongue still intact?”

The young elf averted his eyes. Pictures of him using his “insolent tongue” for all different kind of things came to mind. The foul taste and disgustingly thick liquids...and the alarming sensation of suffocating any second... Gulping he concentrated on his breathing more properly, before daring to look up again. That arrogant look kind of reminded him for a tiny second of his father -which only fueled his defiant nature.

“I did what I had to do to stay alive and I dare to say that I was successful. If you are not pleased with how I express myself freely, I sincerely do not care. I won’t ever allow anyone or anything to enslave my mind -or my _insolent tongue_ for that matter.” for if he would give in, his mother’s sacrifice would have been in vain.

He crossed his arms, no intend on backing down no matter how displeased the elven king looked right now. As a king he would hardly accept such a dare, of course, but the elfling couldn’t help his way of defying those who thought themselves to be of more value than others. He had even denied his own father to accept that dark way of viewing Arda and it’s inhabitants, discussing with him the wealth of it’s creation in general. He had been a fool for calling his proud and choleric father a _"cruel monster which cannot see even the simplest values in life for all his power made him blind like a stone!"_ Nolaquen gulped, his own words echoing in his mind like some ominous mantra. This outburst of his had ensued his mother’s violent death -for she had tried desperately to calm the enraged former Maia and shield her son from his wrath.

Sighing the eyes of the elfling became distant. He was back in that cold and dark fort deep within Mordor, the only land he’d ever known... If his mother had not intervened that day she would probably be still alive by now. Because even though that his father had been entirely changed beyond any help, with his corrupted soul he still had been able to _feel_. Not only hatred and anger, but as well jealousy and even love. As unbelievable as it may sounded if one had in mind even a glimpse of the many crimes he had committed. But it was true nevertheless.

Nolaquen knew in his heart that his father had loved him deeply, in his own twisted way and that being the very reason to turn him over to Azgesh. That knowledge was as fundamental as the need to breathe air. And in spite of his father's many misdeeds and the elfling witnessing his mother's last moments, his father smashing her into tiny bits, the boy could not find it in his heart to truly despise him. There was anger, yes, and much of it, too, but above all he just felt sorrow. He pitied his father for his lack of seeing any beauty in this world, he pitied him for the lack of allowing himself to love him, his one and only son. Everything was just so...very sad.

His mother had seen the value in his father, too. But eventually her years in captivity just had forced her to feel something else for his father than plain disgust or hate. He’d given her that blue dress to begin with, housing her inside a secluded part of the fort, deep deep down the lands, surrounded by darkness, where none shall enter but he himself. He left and visited as he pleased and somewhere along the way her heart had been filled with joy and love every time he came to her, so much that it had ended with a new life taking form inside of her.

And here he was...laying in some bed that was not his own with both his poor mother and his lunatic father dead. Definitely a legacy one would not forget, regardless of how deep that wish may was. It would cast a shadow on his every step for as long as he breathed.

“…You should be more careful how you talk and to whom."

The boy just raised an eyebrow urging to stop his amusement in finding it’s way to the surface. Those two did not know of his past struggles, did not know of his father. Compared to that every foe before him, every threat felt so very hallow, well, and kind of laughable, too. A dangerous way of thinking, he sensed the arrogance of his father in those thoughts, which partly made him feel strangely close to him for a brief moment but at the same time urged his shame to the surface. But he refused to give in to it, he'll always be his father's son for the worse and the better.

“Don’t waste your breath, king of this realm, for I am more than capable to withstand any form of reprehension you may have to offer.”

He quickly moved on, as he was determined not to antagonize them entirely. And with it he completely missed the shocked expression on the king's face, for his words were intended all but to be regarded as a threat. But given the environment the elfling came from he could forgive that mistreat on his account. After all he knew very well that especially since the last couple of years he had not the most welcoming attitude, but he couldn't help it for the most part...

“As far as I can see it, my presence is neither desired nor needed for I am a poor company for such fine specimen that are used to the dull obedience of their kind...", Nolaquen sighed, "Don't get me wrong, I am thankful for your hospitality so far, however I am quite intend on leaving as fast as I can for I won’t give you anything I can’t offer willingly and my freedom of speech is reckoned as such.”

The sheer length of his strong-willed, proud words were a surprise to the elven lords to say the least. That strength of spirit intrigued both lords of old. Thranduil sighed inwards. Now he even managed to force a mere child to wish to leave his realm. A child that'd undergone a life with orcs. How was he supposed to calm the state of mind of his kingdom, if he kept being this...indifferent? He knew he did not wish to act like that, but somehow it was beyond his power to stop that severe change of his.

“You are but an elfling, you shall not be forced to wander alone... If we rushed you to this decision I ensure you that this was not intended.”

Nolaquen blinked in utter confusion for he had been sure of the king approving that decision very much. But now it seemed that this one was eager in him staying, which irritated the young elf to no end and thus activated one of the few coping mechanism he managed to hold onto: his temper.

“I am more than capable of wandering the lands of Arda on my own!”

The elven king raised an eyebrow at this. Even with Legolas he would not allow such a tantrum so he wouldn't start with that now.

“Oh, so that’s why my men found you half-dead and buried under the corpse of one surprisingly fat orc? ...I am told that retrieving you had been quite the effort indeed.”

Unreasonably the boy looked to the side. Maybe he had underestimated the sheer desire of Ogbol to possess him and maybe that fat idiot had been lucky enough to get him good with that cursed mace of his, but if he had not been that starved he would’ve sliced that **Skrigz** in a matter of minutes! (Creep)

But…as a matter of fact he had been too weak to defend himself properly. And for the situation at hand he had to admit that he really was acting more like his father: too proud and looking down on his counterparts… Which was a dangerous path to travel, for it might lead him to the same darkness that his father submitted himself to.

The elfling sighed, losing much of his obstinate attitude. If he would dare to leave now injured and without any protection and happen to run into trouble, as seemed to be some kind of curse of him, he wouldn’t stand a chance. He was too weakened. And maybe still too young and inexperienced to be fine wandering through unfamiliar lands all on his own.

“Actually...you may be right.”

This confession surprised both lords and the weary yawn of the elfling softened their hearts.

“Very well. We shall leave for now. See to it that you rest some more.”, with that the slightly taller king turned away with light but fast steps, while the silver haired lord remained, apparently having something on his mind.

“...I fear we won’t see each other again anytime soon, for I have to take my leave this evening. There are many things I need to attend to, but do not trouble yourself, young one, we shall meet again. You are in good hands, do not let yourself be fooled, the king is not as hostile as it may seem to you right now.”

To that the elfling had to smile.

“Rest assured that I am able to see more than my age may lead you to believe. I recognized the indifference for what it really is: a shell of great sorrow. I've seen great many of such sad things and a soul struggling between life and death is one of the most saddening one. ...But unfortunately my own revolting nature may very well be in the way of using that knowledge for the better and that I regret.”

The silver haired elf gifted him with a kind smile in return.

“Do stay that true to yourself for it contains wisdom far greater than the sheer existence of millennia of years could provide.”

He half-way turned around ready to leave but halted, watching the elfling with concern in his eyes before freeing himself of his silver necklace around his collar.

“Take this, it shall remind you from today on that you belong among your kind. ...Do not hesitate, take it. It is yours now.”

Hesitant the young elf’s fingers grasped the fine metal, the necklace was beautiful yet the ornaments quite simple. It was perfect for him that way, something too decorative would’ve felt way too foreign to him.

“May it be a symbol of yours to trust in yourself and those you feel compelled to, for love will lead you astray from that dark path you have come from.”

He nodded slightly at the young elf, which was in awe.

“Farewell, Nolaquen, son of Lotilos. May your ways be green and golden.”

Gulping Nolaquen stared at the silver haired elf, not able to believe what he thought to have heard. Such kind words and so many of them! All directed towards him. He could not decide how to feel about that. And the moment he was able to think properly again the elven lord was already gone, leaving him with his thoughts alone -and his generous gift. Blinking in terror the child realized that he hadn’t thanked him for anything -the gift nor his words. But he felt it in his heart that he would be able to catch up on that eventually some time. Just not right now.

As he put the blanket to the side, initially to jump to his feet and maybe test the boundaries of his freedom inside this strange realm, he began to understand that he was confined to stay in bed for quite a while indeed. That cursed mace had ripped his thighs open in an quite unpleasant way. The bandages wrapped around them were already stained and they smelled pretty bad, making him dizzy.

The elf from the very beginning with that light brown hair came inside again, silently and yet determined.

“...I already suspected those to need my attention again very soon.”

Blinking Nolaquen tried to recall the name of that one.

“No… Noru?”

“Noruinif, but that one is fine, too, young one. Do not trouble yourself, you may have fooled everyone including yourself that you’re fine, but I know the truth. - Hold still, while I'll take these bandages off of you.”

The smell got even more awful while the healer unwrapped his legs and yet the pain was quite bearable. It hurt, yes, but he’d learned by now to ignore his pain mostly to just some dull, displeasing feeling. And sometimes he even needed quite some time to notice a wound as it has occurred just now. He truly did not recall sensing any pain from his legs before...

Noruinif watched him every now and then and was disturbed to find the elfling not twitching much while he was cleaning the deep cuts and squeezing the pus out of some parts that were closed again and filled with too much of this bad substance. He had suspected the child to be screaming out of the agony the treatment must cause him, even an adult would surely at least hiss in pain or moan every now and then. But nothing. The child wasn’t even grimacing that much! Wrapping the ulcerous wounds up again he shuddered. That behavior was beyond anything he could comprehend.

“You...are a brave one, that’s for sure.”

The young elfling shrugged slightly, uncomfortable with that strange statement. Besides he wasn’t used to get compliments. In fact today was the first time he was being complimented at all. And at such frequency indeed!

“I had worse.”

Noruinif’s face was immediately darkened and with distaste his eyes wandered over the disgraced body of that pityful skinny thing, having a hard time to contain his negative feelings as his gaze lingered on the missing toenails of the child. There was no part truly left in peace. His arms were completely carved with strange patterns, but at least they seemed to have healed quite good. It was a different story for the child's lower legs for they seemed to have been burned for multiple times, the skin was rough and too tight on some places, which indicates that the scar tissue must cause a severe pain while moving almost constantly. Maybe that was part of why the child seemed to be dulled to pain in general: He was _used_ to feel it. A horrible explanation, but sadly the only one that made sense.

“May I see?”

The healer implied with his hands to the boy to turn around a bit, asking for the permission to study his back for he had slept on it the days before. Hesitant the elfling obliged slowly, clearly being uncomfortable with the request, but the healer could not find it in himself not to inspect the child now properly for the first time. If he was about to care for the little one he needed all the information he could get regarding his health. Well, he suspected that it would not look that pretty on the back as the front was already scarred beyond his healing abilities, but he hadn't quite expected it to be worse than the legs of his. Inhaling sharply he had to fight tears building. He felt terribly sorry for that poor child. How could the Valar allow such cruelty to happen to such a young soul of theirs?

Shivering he began to feel his way around the most devastating scars, but found that he could not really decide which to be the most awful one. The whole back was one big, scarred terrain. A story of many hours and a whip without mercy. Even one with just the tiniest bit of imagination would be incited to see those horrid pictures in their head regardless their lack of skill.

“...I may have something for you to soften the skin. It may improve the flexibility of your body, hopefully helping you move without much pain or wounds ripping open again.”

The small flinch the boy did after his words confirmed his thesis. He must’ve had troubles lifting things, running and -well, probably moving his body in general. Almost everything that was even just slightly exerting will most definitely affect his skin badly. Without some attendance all those scars would most certainly not allow the child to gain weight to a more healthy level -at least not without severe complications for that matter.

“...Well, I think the best you can do now is rest.”

The child seemed not that eager to do so and somehow the healer got a feeling that he’ll have to provide him with something to assist him in that matter as well. There was no telling what imprisonment and torture could do to a mere child - most of their kind sailed to the west after experiencing too much bad happenings of the lackeys of darkness after all... The first example that came to mind was Lord Elrond’s wife, experiencing torture of the orcs and be changed ever after, finding no longer peace in Middle Earth. She sailed to the Undying Lands a mere year after that.

Maybe she was now happier there, but Noruinif personally doubted that. Going somewhere else hardly ever helped in dissolving the inner demons just like that. Maybe the guidance of the Valar would help her somehow, but as a healer he could not imagine what kind of magic would be necessary for such a goal... He lacked the required imagination and had not the intend on leaving for the west any time soon. If ever.

Sighing he watched the child stubbornly trying to stay awake. He may have to reconsider in expanding his medical stock way earlier than anticipated before. Medicine would most certainly take way higher doses to truly take effect - for the child’s dulled senses regarding his own needs may very well not be limited only to his pain perception... With that he left for his study to take a potion from his personal stock for now.

But after Noruinif came back with quite the amount of substance he found the child sleeping soundly. Smiling he put it aside for now, eager on monitoring the elfling very closely this night. It was his first real sleep after all and Noruinif could only guess what terrors might await the child...

 

As Noruinif made himself comfortable on his desk, eager to work his way through one big pile of paperwork, the king made an entrance. He could feel him before getting in sight, the small lit fires flickered as if announcing his appearance. Noruinif strongly suggested that their king's life in Doriath before and thus being exposed to Melian's influence had changed him somehow into being closer to the Valar and those of them living in the Blessed Realm. Despite that their king still got wearier over the years and especially of a way shorter temper. Coldness was overtaking their king's heart and yet he was still deeply cherished by his people. Well. Most of them at least. Some of them were...displeased with the latest happenings regarding their king and the heir to the throne seemingly not intent to ever coming back. There was bad talking in some corners and Noruinif feared for what might happen if those talks would not end soon.

Shoving his troubled thoughts away for now he got up the moment his king stood before the small figure of his latest patient, eyeing the boy with a thoughtful expression. Noruinif had to smile at that sight for all that bad talk he could not unsee the deeply intertwined love their king still held close to his heart for everything and everyone inside his realm -even those souls that had just arrived.

"Greetings, my king. I suspect you want to be filled in on my medical examination of our new patient so far?"

His king's gaze was afar and yet he gifted him with a small nod to continue.

"He is in a poor condition as one can see well enough. He eats and drinks good and so far he was able to keep the nourishment... But besides from that I fear there is only sad news..." He paused, watching the fragile elfling's frequent breathing. "...That small body has been damaged far beyond my abilities, I am mostly concentrating on easing the chronic pain he most certainly has been damned with and I intend to support him through his adolescence as the process of growing will most certainly influence his fraught skin texture. -Additionally I had to instill quite the amount of sleeping draft in him for him not tossing and turning while sleeping, so he might not damage the troublesome wounds on his thighs any further -or the one's on his mind for that matter."

He sighed.

"His discovery is troublesome and yet it gives me hope, my king, and I intend to care for him with all my heart if you would allow me to. He has come that far thus earning my every support I am able to provide."

"And I am certain it will do the child well.", the king nodded in approval.

"We shall see."

The king's lips twitched slightly.

"That we will..."

Both of them watched the soundless sleep of their young guest together in comfortable silence, both occupied with their own trace of thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

_He heard joyful moans from his mother’s bedroom, knew despite his short existance what it meant. It took quite some time for his father to reappear. Nolaquen sensed that he was well-adjusted in the moment, having his time with his mother always helped him to a more...calming nature. Putting on the most happy smile he could muster he ran towards him with arms held up high. His heart hammering in his chest for the fear of being rejected. Yet again._

_But he was lucky indeed. His father picked him up, his strong and comfortable arms were all around his small figure, filling him with so much love that it hurt. He could smell the unmistakably smoky taste his father had on himself, like freshly burned wood. It smelled like home._

_Smiling peacefully the child snuggled himself even more against the soft fabric of his father’s tunic._

_“I love you so much!”, he couldn’t stop to admit._

_It was spoken out of his deepest sentiment and yet he felt his father’s body stiffen immediately. Gulping Nolaquen dared to look up. His grip around the cloth tightened as he felt the conflict inside his father reaching a breaking point. The child couldn’t stop his tears to build themselves but he tried to hold them back as best as he could manage._

_“...I-I’m sorry...”_

_It was too late, he knew that. He was set down on the cold ground, could only look at his father's back before he was already disintegrating into shadow. The only reminder of that brief visit of his was the haunted feeling of warmth slowly abandoning his body again._

With wet cheeks the boy sat up, shivering all over. His distress clearly visible in the wretched state of his pillow and blanket, both lying at the foot of his bed. Rubbing his eyes and wiping his sweaty face dry with some cloth Noruinif had given him before going to bed to wash himself he blinked in horror towards his left side. For a tiny moment he’d been sure to see his father’s eyes, watching him from there, lurking. But at a closer look it were just the small candles at the desk of Noruinif. Shivering yet again he rubbed his arms in need for some form of comfort.

Most of the realm was certainly asleep already and so was Nolaquen’s host. The healer laid uncomfortably on his desk, his head on his arms, snoring -which caused one of his many papers to quiver with every exhale. It was somehow a funny thing to watch.

As silently as possible the boy climbed out of the bed, eager on being able to stretch his legs a bit. He needed to leave. The sensation of being held captive was strong at this moment. He needed fresh air. Sneaking outside he was overwhelmed with the possibilities in here and a little lost as to which path may lead him outside. Eventually he found that he did not care where he would be lead, if it would only end in him putting some distance between the place where he had that awful relive of his memory…

For a while he just walked in silence, but the more he lost himself in the endless paths of this kingdom, the more lost he felt as a whole. The more helpless. He’d been really cautious up to now with his footing, but he was just a few couple of days in this realm and thus did not know the terrain or the routine of their soldiers, so it wasn’t surprising that he was found by some guards on patrol at some point. They were coming towards him and he felt his heart racing.

-“Wait!”

And running he did. Half-while crossing through the dimly lit underground kingdom he wondered how everyone could possibly find back home every day. Did elves get drunk? And if so, did it occur from time to time that some would die a fast death while trying to walk those narrow paths? It wouldn’t be too surprising, uruks went missing every day in Mordor and eventually were found dead after feasting, probably been too drunk to see the cliffs on time. But somehow imagining elves doing such things was...almost unbelievable.

He heard the footsteps of the guards approaching, light and barely audible. He knew they would get him if he would continue like that. Looking past the edge of his path while running he did the only thing he thought that could prevent his capture -he jumped down. Neither knowing how far the ground would be away nor if there even was any. Growing up in such a hostile land like Mordor, with all it’s creatures living there, one was conditioned to make decisions like that within a mere second. Overthinking live or death situations in general ended with one’s head being chewed off or worse.

He fell for quite some time to say the least. And then he felt a cold he would’ve never guessed. Gasping out of reflex water filled his lungs immediately. Panic flooded his mind almost as all-consumingly as the water did his lungs. He'd never witnessed any deep waters, they only had very small ones back in Mordor. Nothing like that. The ground seemed to be far away and he was floating deeper with every struggle to get out of there... Just as he had no strength left he felt a rough grip around his waist, pulling him out.

Coughing violently he clawed at the ground the moment he felt it beneath him again, overwhelmed with a burning ache in his throat and having a hard time to find his breath again.

.-“Is everything alright, my king?”

Blinking rapidly the boy looked up, watching in a blur guards approaching, probably the same that had chased him. Nolaquen looked next to himself, eyeing the king in his mighty clothes, completely soaked. With guilt he averted his eyes quickly again.

“Everything’s fine. Resume to your post.”

The guards eyed Nolaquen but obeyed. The boy didn’t found enough energy to care for this order, he would have assumed that he would be escorted back or maybe even being put in a cell. After all he did disobey the clear order to stay with Noruinif... Feeling all kinds of things, the child was overwhelmed. The tiny voice inside his head was unbearable loud, screaming at him of how stupid one can be, of his incapability to do anything right. Sniffing he held his head straight to the ground, not daring to look up to his unexpected savior even as the guards were long gone.

To his surprise he wasn’t lectured. He wasn’t forced to deal with any words that would have been misplaced anyway because he was too occupied in not losing himself entirely to the depth of all those feelings that he was drowning in. Instead he just heard a wet thud, registered the king now sitting right next to him in the grass. The elven lord kindly waited and watched the slightly moving trees and the surface of his lake that was reflecting the magical lights up above -lights to guide careless souls away from the brink. Well, they were misplaced beacons for those that intended to jump right down of course…

Shaking his head slightly Thranduil couldn’t decide how to respond to such behavior. He kept wondering. What would he have done if that had been Legolas? This thought was the very reason why he had jumped into the installed lake of his without hesitation. Realizing only while holding the boy that he apparently really couldn’t swim. His young guest would've died this night, if he had not happen to go for a walk into that garden of his to contemplate.

Sighing he watched the boy catching his breath. He looked miserable, still not daring to meet his eye.

“...My guards are ordered to protect you, child. No harm will be done to you in my realm.”

Finally the scrawny child looked up with watery eyes and a devastated look in them. How could such a little soul carry so much despair inside? Thranduil was almost unable to hold the gaze.

"How would I know? I am not one of you, I know that and you should too..."

"But you are."

What was the boy talking about? Of course he was one of them, an elf nevertheless.

"I was raised in Mordor -yes, I have witnessed many misdeed there, but I am still more orc than elf and that will never change. I'll never be like the lot of you."

Nolaquen gulped, not ready to reveal his other point in his argumentation. He was afraid of what the knowledge of his heritage would do to the king's view of him, afraid that the king might take his words back and the elfling was not sure if he would survive any harsh statements coming from him -at least regarding this night. He was hurt right now and he knew best how easy it was at times like this to get to the brink of trying to kill himself again. The bruises on his wrists were lesson enough of how far his damaged mind could drive him sometimes. But the thing was, he cherished life. He wasn't ready to die that early.

"You don't have to.", the king looked back at the lake again, knowing that it was crucial for the child to be acknowledged and he felt compelled to allow him just that, for it was a right everyone shall have, "...May you be willing to tell me just how I can support you in feeling safe in my realm? I would be inclined to do what I can to ensure that something like the recent happenings won't recur again."

He gave the elfling his time to think it through, chances were high that he needed to figure it out for himself to be able to voice something to him. And there was a chance that he may still not come to an answer, but that would be fine, too. Thranduil knew best that patience was the answer to almost all happenings. The boy would get there when the time was right.

"Well... If I...if I want to leave, not necessarily now but maybe later, then would you...would you let me? -Can you promise me that? Guarantee that I will get my freedom if I wish for it?"

 It took a moment for the Sindar to realize that this was indeed the answer to his question. The elfling probably needed this comfort to be able to engage in the everyday life, to feel not like a prisoner.

"...If you truly wish to leave, there is no reason why I shall force you to stay. Though I am intend on stating that you very much know for yourself that you need my protection. At least for the time being."

The boy nodded and the king was granted with the innocent smile of a child again. It had been a long time ago that he had been blessed with that kind of happiness. And coming from a child with such a background...he felt like it was even more precious. With surprise he gazed into those big, bright brown eyes of the child -for those very eyes seemed to glow. They were blazing in the dark, clear as day. And most definitely not out of any normal reflection of some lantern. They were glowing and flickering, changing slightly like a small flame. How had he not noticed so before? Well, he had not visited the child at night before, not with him being awake at least. Additionally there was that character trait of the elfling not to care at all about his messy thick hair, which was hiding half his face almost constantly if not more of it.

With the utmost care the king's hand reached out to push the lost strands of hair back. Nolaquen stopped breathing, too caught up in the moment and way too afraid to do something stupid and destroy the moment. Like he had done so every time with his father in some way or another... The sensation of warm, caring fingertips slightly brushing away his hair and reveal his entire face made him blush, it was a strange feeling of being entirely exposed. But somehow he was not really afraid as he thought he would. His heart was racing as if he was still trying to escape the guards, but...in anticipation. He longed for more of this warmth. The urge to lean into the touch, to jump into those broad shoulders and feel secured.

"We should do something about your hair... Would you mind if I sent you someone experienced enough tomorrow morning? She could help you taking care of them more properly and if you like you can discuss with her what you want to wear, I heard that you don't feel comfortable in the clothes that had been offered to you?"

With pink ears the boy looked to the side.

"...You don't have to. I can manage just fine..."

"There is nothing wrong with taking what is offered. Sometimes it is even more offensive to decline such generosities, don't you think?"

"...Maybe?"

Pleased the elven king rose to his feet again, offering Nolaquen a hand to help him get up himself.

"I shall accompany you back to the healing house. I do not wish for you to get lost in my kingdom yet again."

With a knot in his throat Nolaquen walked silently next to the surprisingly kind lord. He would've never guessed for him to have so much empathy. Not with his attitude from before. Such a conflictive character indeed.

As they reached their goal faster than anticipated the elfling panicked as the elven king wished him a good night and started to leave. He would go without him saying something nice back, without some words of gratefulness -just like it had been with the silver haired one from which he got that nice necklace! With those thoughts in mind he jumped towards the other elf, embracing him from behind with great force as some panic reaction. His head buried inside the soaking wet cloth he felt as if his heated face would burn it's way through in an instant.

"I, uh, thank you!"

It was an odd atmosphere all of a sudden and Nolaquen expected the elven lord to shove him away, maybe even to get violent as his father would have done for sure -situations in which he hadn't been able to foresee Nolaquen's intentions beforehand always had ended quite bad... But king Thranduil was not his father. And so the child was frozen in place as his guardian turned around again to stroke him through his hair in an almost affectionate way, with hesitation it may have been, but still. This gesture of appreciation was...so much. It meant the world for the elfling.

With a small smile the elven king wished him again a good night and truly left, but Nolaquen felt nothing of his despair from before. Now he was left with a warm feeling inside his chest which was expanding quickly through his entire body. It had been a long time that he'd felt like he was welcomed, maybe he'd never truly felt like that before for he could not find any memory to compare it with. Maybe staying wasn't that bad. Because now he found that he cared much more about the fact that the king was...in conflict with himself. His words to the other lord days before echoed through his mind. It really was a sad happening if a soul truly was about to slowly disintegrate, but now he could not think about it that easily regarding the king. He had to do something!

Nolaquen sighed, while limping back inside. He was about to entangle himself in business that was not his own, as his father would undoubtedly declare.

 

With a deep breath Noruinif relished in the sight before him. Not afar the 4 elflings of their realm were training their swordsmanship, all eager to prove themselves. With hard won indifference he watched as Harnedir seized one of his peers. The reason why Noruinif was not that keen on seeing that child was due to the fact that the other three often ended up coming to him for aid and he had to patch the poor children up. Harnedir simply did not know how to stop, he was relentless.

The healer had voiced his concerns regarding the lad of course, but it was not taken seriously. In fact the boy was seen as their best recruit so far and those violent acts were undermined with the comment that they were all just training with wooden swords and thus no real harm was done. Beriril saw their bruises as something that should give those poor children a lesson: that they would need to train even harder to surpass their best. Additionally all three of them admired that fool to an extend. They feared him, yes, but they were also following him around almost everywhere. Their misplaced loyalty was what put him in his position in the first place, but for the children it was not that clear to see. A complicated situation indeed.

Noruinif watched his old friend Beriril explaining Lamaeneth how to grip her sword when wishing to aim for the legs of their training dolls. That sweet girl was determined in mastering this craft, for she was the one that was nearly constantly harassed by Harnedir. Sighing yet again he watched his young patient doing his best in walking next to him as unaffected by his wounds as he could manage. That child was a miracle. A proud and stubborn one for sure. Demanding on “finally taking a walk” after only staying put for 3 whole days…

While the children ahead of them were improving their talents in battle at the training fields their king held a meeting with his counsel mere feet away from them, at a balcony up to 40 feet above but still low enough for Noruinif to see the elves sitting there at the table with filled glasses of wine and some maps lying across. Most probably they were discussing the rebuilt of their lost kingdom above the ground taking place since a few weeks. There was much yet to be done before the constructional part of their plan could begin. Up there were definitely some tough decisions yet to made, but Noruinif would not be thrilled to sit there and share the responsibilities. He had plenty of that of his own right now -and with that thought he glared at the child next to him coming to a halt. They were close enough to properly watch the young elves fighting and Noruinif hoped to instill some interest in their young guest to maybe join them in the near future.

Now with the proper lights the healer acknowledged that the boy was indeed a very beautiful child, regardless his damaged body. His skin was almost as white as the snow-filled tip of a tall mountain; his hair was the epitome of chaos, always at least with one strand of his long, dark and extremely thick locks in his face, but maybe he was completely unaware of his lovely face in general. For Naradis had tried her best to help him realize his potential. After some struggling he allowed her to help him wash and comb his hair, but anything else had been declined in a very direct fashion. Noruinif was not sure if Naradis would be that thrilled to help the child again in the near future. Somehow those two were not on good terms with each other...

Noruinif smiled a bit as he watched the boy froze in place the moment he also managed to spot their king, staring at the assembly with his bright brown, almost golden eyes wide open in fascination. As emotions such as that one shone inside them they almost seemed to flicker with light, like a warm and nicely lit fireplace with shadows dancing in a slow yet mesmerizing tune. The elf would be inclined to watch the child all day. The more time he spent with him, the more he was determined to adopt this child into his family. He may have lost his woman and their unborn child long ago and promised himself to never replace them, but helping Nolaquen somehow felt different. He was not replacing his lost family with him, this here...this was something entirely new. The child needed someone to take care of him and he...he had been alone for way too long.

Noruinif was a healer not only of the physical state of their people, but their mental one as well and he dared to believe that he was good at what he was doing, maybe not that exceptional as Lord Elrond was, but still sufficient enough. Well except for preserving the health of their king that is, for he was the only one he couldn’t seem to reach, no matter how hard he’d tried and thus he was damned these last hundreds of years to silently endure watching his king being slowly devoured by his inner demons, growing more and more weary of everything around him. Changing more and more with each passing year.

And with that in mind it was an understatement to say that he was surprised to watch as the king met the gaze of their small guest with something he may dare to call almost as affectionate. Well, their king had always been talented in dealing with his fatherhood of course, if one ignores the last couple of years that is. Additionally he had always been gravitating towards uncommonly beauty in some way or another…So, maybe the child’s arrival was a good thing to happen not only for the child but for their realm as a whole.

Said child was still watching the king, even as the eyes of their ruler were fixated again on the table before him. Nolaquen couldn’t help this need of watching that elven lord for he felt like an unknown power forced him to gravitate towards him. It was strange, but he managed to fight that need of just climbing up there to be able to sit in his presence. Blinking he watched the small elves fighting against wooden training puppets and found that pretty funny indeed. Even more so as he watched one of them acting like he’d killed a whole garrison with a single finger, while he just beheaded a stupid wooden figure with some form of stick.

It was hilarious to watch, but he managed to hide his laughter pretty good. He had enough experience with that. There had been some really awkward war chiefs in his father’s ranks, some of them had been a miracle to him. How they even managed to be in their position in the first place even more so.

With some struggle Nolaquen managed to kneel down. The earth beneath his bare feet felt great, but grasping at the bits of soft grass with his hands...that was a whole different feeling. They were so very colorful, so pretty. Nurn had been with fields of grass, too, but somehow it had been entirely different than those. They even smelled different. A miracle indeed.

With fascination he watched a small caterpillar crouching at one of the slightly bigger blades of grass and with great care he picked it up, watching it move with a thirst of knowledge that made Noruinif chuckle.

“Any chance that you might be interested in visiting our library?”

This invitation did not succeed in getting the child exited.

“...I can’t speak nor understand your language, so how shall I be able to make any sense out of your written words?”

“Well, than you’ll simply have to learn it. I’ll see to it that everything will be arranged for that- that means if you would be interested in learning our tongue?”

“Of course I would.”, the boy eyed him doubtful, “but why would you care?”

Still so very distrustful. Well, he couldn't blame the child.

“As your stay as our guest will expand I hope you’ll come to realize that kindness requires nothing in return.”

The boy went silent, apparently pretty occupied with his thoughts. Noruinif obliged at his wish to contemplate. After all he could comprehend why it must be so hard for the elfling to understand the simplicity in being kind to one another. Even though it was hard to grasp what it must be like, to be that estranged to such common elven customs. But then again, as the boy felt inclined to point out every time it occurred:

He was _not_ like them.

 

 

_Nolaquen was back home. Back at Mordor. He felt it in his bones. Smelled it’s ashes and the dry coldness lying everywhere. He saw his small sleeping place, inside one big cage with many other slaves. Some time ago this cage had housed a graug of enormous size and strength that had eventually destroyed the entrance with it’s brute force._

_Their outpost was still in extreme disorder due to the graug’s escape, many camps had been destroyed they had to work more than they’d done before, almost been granted with less than three hours sleep. He could manage, but for his human companions it was almost not bearable._

_One of the humans, a rather old fellow, couldn’t get up again as they all were called by the piercing sound of a horn to start working again. The human’s face was covered with a gray beard all over and as the man looked over to the elfling he realized that this fellow was the one that had been ripped off his tongue for talking back to Greshakh the gruesome… Nolaquen felt the urge to get this human to stand on his feet again for he could sense Azgesh the skinner watching them with growing impatience._

_The small elf got to the old man and tried to lift him, despite the other slaves silently standing around them. He knew they all feared to take action and of course he wasn’t free of feeling the same. But he couldn’t just stand by and watch… Eventually he found that he was too weak to force this man back to his feet. There was no strength left in this human. The young uruk currently in charge knew that, too, and took his leash out._

_“No!”_

_He thwarted Azgesh the skinner, determined to stop him from reaching his victim._

_“Azgesh, please let this poor soul rest a bit!”_

_“Only weaklings are nice to their subjects, **snaga**...”, the orc reasoned with him, there was almost something like pity in his voice. Almost. And maybe it was true for the young orc favoured Nolaquen. But the young elfling would not give in. He never did._

_“He worked for you for more than 10 years faithfully, there is nothing wrong in acknowledging that as his master!”_

_“I do not have any use of a slave that can no longer carry my belongings or even walk!”_

_“Then at least grant him a quick end! You don’t have to be so cruel, just because your father-”_

_He’d known the moment the words slipped out of his mouth that he would get punished for that, but never would he have guessed that Azgesh would hit him with his famous spiked leash. Again and again and again. He lost count. His hands and arms that he’d held high to protect his face were ripped open immediately in some strange pattern._

_The mindless punishment stopped as abruptly as it had begun and the young elf knew that Azgesh felt guilty now. The young orc was shivering, his dark eyes fixed on his hand which still held the now blood-strained leash. He’d always been short-tempered, but until now he had been the reason for the little elf to be still alive, always feeding him and giving him water behind the back of his own father -Greshakh the gruesome._

_Nolaquen was quite shocked about this outburst, never before had Azgesh hit him with anything else than his fists. Not even Greshakh had hurt him like that until now, maybe because he was not entirely sure yet if their great lord had given him his one and only heir to test him in some way, fearing that if he would indeed treat the elfling the same as his other subjects he himself would be punished._

_Nolaquen stood his ground, trying his best in ignoring the burning sensation of those deep cuts._

_“...Will you release that human now or not?”_

_Azgesh crossed his arms in a defensive manner, still not really looking at him._

_“Fine, if you want that man-filth to die, so it be! But you will be the one doing it, **snaga**!”_

_And with that he shoved a small, rusty dagger in the bloodied hands of the elf. Shivering the boy stared at the weapon. The young orc snarled._

_“What, can’t you do it yourself? Shall I ask for my father then?”_

_Greshakh would never grant any of his subjects a merciful end. Never._

_“No! I’ll do it, I’ll do it!”_

_By the time he stood before the barely conscious old man his hands were clam and because of the hard grip he maintained around the hilt even more blood was dripping out of his wounds onto the ground. He felt his blood rushing through his body, heard his own pulse in his ears so loud that it kept everything else away. Fear was rising simultaneously with his determination of granting this poor human his final rest. Eyeing the human he gulped. There was nothing but gratitude inside those hallow eyes._

_With sorrow the elfling lifted the dagger, ready to strike yet trembling. The entry of the knife was brutal, blood splashed into his face, he heard the surprised gasp of the human, felt the air leaving his foul smelling mouth. Heard with his fine elven ears how the heart slowly succumbed. Felt through his grip around the hilt how the body slowly went limp. He couldn’t stop staring into those empty wide-opened eyes_... 

With a scream Nolaquen jumped and thus fell out of his bed with quite the noise. Wincing the young elf held his thighs, that had hurt. Rubbing the sore flesh around his bandages he blinked the tears away. Eager on forgetting those vivid pictures he got up again. Noruinif was there in a heartbeat watching him with concerned eyes.

“You had a nightmare again?”

Nolaquen nodded, not quite ready to deal with anything right now.

“You know… It may be far beyond easy, but it really helps to talk about what’s troubling oneself.”

The elfling almost scoffed in disgust, which truly reminded the healer for a tiny second of an orc. But he wouldn’t allow such comparison to even consider it as something other than false. He would not give in to accept this belief of the elfling.

“Memories won’t dissolve themselves just because you talk about them. They won’t stop existing and will still hurt the same. Or would you say that talking about the loss of your family made it any easier to survive the nights?”

With this harsh statement he hit a nerve, Noruinif flinched and for a moment the child was sure that he would leave right then.

“How...How did you even know about them?”

“You keep a cloth in your desk that is stained with old blood.”

“You searched my desk?”

“Not only your desk...”

“Why...Why would you do that?”

Noruinif was shocked. He now began to understand the full range of what it truly meant for such a child to acclimate itself here. The elfling had given enough hints by now to his life in Mordor so the reason for Noruinif now to be taken by surprise by such behavior was his own thoughtlessness. He should have expected the child to investigate for foul motives or evil intends. It is just so hard to have in mind at all times that this child may look like them, but had quite the different background indeed… Sighing Noruinif lost his tense attitude.

“I apologize.”

Blinking rapidly the child looked taken aback. It was almost worth a laugh, but it would not do any good of course.

“You always seemed so eager to remind me of your heritage again and again and I waved it aside every time, but I think I get it now why you felt constrained to remind me that often -and I am sorry for that.”

The elven healer smiled ruefully and sat on one end of the child’s transitional bed.

“You know, it really is hard to try to understand what it meant for you to have lived in Mordor… And even more so to live here now. It must be...quite frightening. But because I am so used to my life here I failed to comprehend what you meant.”

Unassertive the child moved also to the bed, sat down on it within 10 feet distance. Still weary, but he felt like he owned the other one also an apology. 

“...I am sorry, too.”

Noruinif lifted an eyebrow and the elfling felt compelled to explain further.

“For searching through your things...and thus being pretty rude and invasive, I guess. Of course I wouldn’t really know what it means for you lot, I never had things of my own so I can’t really relate. But I think I can understand why you’re mad -it is your wife’s cloth, isn’t it?”

The question puzzled Noruinif, but he took a deep breath and reminded himself of his words from before. Talking helps. And maybe he was a hypocrite for always giving such an advice to all his patients while he himself never really followed this instruction.

“Yes, it is...”

“What was her name?”

“…Harthriel.”

“Huh...quite the strange name. But you elves have all kinds of such names.”

Nuruinif had to chuckle a bit and suppressed the urge to remind the child of the fact that he wore an elven name himself. 

“You actually have the same opinion as she had. She never liked her name. That’s why she had insisted on our child staying nameless until it would be old enough to choose one for itself.”

Nolaquen watched his caregiver’s despair blemish his pretty face. He decided that he did not like him being in pain. But he found that he still had to ask.

“...What happened?”

Noruinif averted his eyes.

“They were killed by some orcs while travelling to Lothlorien. Her sister lived there and Harthriel had wished to visit her. ...Maybe she wanted to bear our child there, she’d been very fond of Lady Galadriel. I suppose the thought of giving birth there gave her some form of comfort. She had been very scared of it all.”

“... Where have you been at that time?”

The healer took a deep breath.

“I had been with her. Unable to stop this filth of slicing her throat... I killed them. I killed all of them, but there was nothing I could do to stop her from dying -and with her our unborn child.”

For some time neither of them said a word. They just sat there and watched the small flames of the candles dancing slowly. It was Nolaquen who broke the silence.

“I watched my mother die...”

Noruinif’s head jerked towards the young one. Not quite knowing how to proceed due to this confession. But eventually the elfling went on.

“...I couldn’t shut up, as always, and she protected me from the consequences -and hence was smashed to her death with a sledgehammer. I couldn’t move. I...just watched him hurting her. She stopped screaming eventually, but he wouldn’t stop hitting her. He just...continued. There were bits and pieces of her all over the place. I couldn’t even decipher her face any more, I just...”

Nolaquen stopped, apparently overwhelmed by the memory. He shivered but decided to end what he had begun.

“He told me afterwards that this shall be a lesson learned. My task was to remove the mess and throw her into a pit where all the rotten flesh was thrown to feed the beasts there. I was not allowed to take anything as a reminder of her and was strictly told to watch until every last piece of her was gone…”

By now tears were steaming down the pale cheeks. After a moment the elfling looked up in despair. 

“You said that it would help to talk… But why does it hurt so much?”

That was all it took for Noruinif to knock his worries on the head and almost forcefully embrace the young one with all his might. Not sure if he would be able to let go of the child ever again. With the utmost care he stroked the marred back of the elfling, trying to support him while at the same time trying desperately to process the gruesome tale of past happenings he had been entrusted with. He could barely manage to maintain his own feelings but for the child he tried his best. And eventually he just had to ask.

“Who would force a child to such gruesome tasks??”

Nolaquen held his breath. Tempted to tell the truth right now and then. But fear held him back. Deciding for something less dangerous but nevertheless close enough to the actual truth.

"My father."

Noruinif did not dare to ask any more. Sensing that the elfling would not stand any more of it. Instead he concentrated on caressing him.

Deciding now and then that he would do anything to take that gruesome past away from the child's mind. He will try with all his might to help the young one to experience many new memories. Happy ones.

So they may silence those too hurtful.


	3. Chapter 3

With growing frustration Nolaquen listened to his instructor named Carvon, the one Noruinif had declared as the best to teach him their words because apparently he was visiting the library since he’d been able to walk. To be fair that elf was trying very hard, but Nolaquen just happened to be one with an extremely thick skull as any uruk would remark with fervor.

He knew he shall know better than that, but couldn’t hinder his emotional distance regarding that language. Everything inside him twisted and turned if he did as much as tried to decipher their letters or even dared to try to voice some of the vocabulary that was recited to him to repeat. Those words just felt so wrong, wrong in so many ways. He felt his father’s presence like a hot vein of lava right behind his bare back as if he was currently at Mount Doom for real. Him sitting here felt like betraying his father. It was awful.

“Pen-neth, I cannot resume everything for you. You need to work with me here, otherwise you’ll never learn.”

Nolaquen’s discontent grew only wider. He crossed his arms, not at all pleased to be lectured on top of this nauseous feelings he already dealt with _because_ he was still sitting here trying his best to continue. He was not born here, he had a different first language as they had and besides they could all communicate with the common tongue well enough.

Well, of course he missed a lot of chats in elvish around him for he could not expect the entire kingdom to be considerate of his lack of speech. And the thing was, he really wanted to learn the language, but his anxiety was in his way. Besides the way this elf tried to teach him just wasn’t ideal. Nolaquen was not keen on speaking this tongue as fast as he could like his hosts just seem to have as their goal. But the elfling didn’t ask them to force their language onto him -but to help him _understand_.

They wanted him to talk like them, to behave like them and maybe feel like one of them and thus they completely ignored the fact that he may have a different goal. They just assumed that he wanted to be just like them, because _who wouldn’t_? -and it annoyed him to no end. Eventually he came to agree his brethren in one thing by now: elves could be such self-absorbed, overbearing, arrogant-

-”Is our centuries old collection of knowledge to your liking?”

Nolaquen’s trace of thought was disrupted by the king and the child couldn’t help but wonder why it seemed that everywhere he was the sindar just appeared out of nowhere. Was he being watched by him? Ever since his fall into the lake and the quick rescue of Thranduil he kept wondering about the motives of the elven lord. The elfling was not really believing any more that he had to expect any danger from him. Not now at least. But being watched by his men and kind of followed around by himself felt...not that nice.

But of course a king could do as he pleased. Something that enraged the small elf to no end. If Thranduil wanted to see him or talk to him or find something out could he not simply ask? Why all that trouble? Because if those actions already felt ridiculous to him wasn’t it even more so regarding the king’s own point of view?

“...Your collection truly is remarkable both in size and in variety, but I must declare that currently I have not much joy in them.”, he grumbled lowly, not able to avoid giving his instructor a hard glance.

Thranduil however eyed the child with a frown. His young guest truly was a difficult one. That was necessarily nothing entirely bad but a lot more work for all of them. He was...different than all elves he has ever met. The very reason he had an ever watchful eye on him, for he had unintentional witnessed the communication of his most trusted healer and the child mere days before. And something struck him right away.

 _“Who would force a child to such gruesome tasks?” -_ _"...My father."_ That response echoed in his mind, the hallow voice of the child sending shivers of ice down his spine. Since overhearing that talk it was the center of his thoughts on every occasion where he was not knee-deep into work. “ _Who would force a child to such gruesome tasks?_ ” Well, who would indeed… Of course every orc was capable of doing such, but those poor women forced to bear their children never delivered something else than an orc brute.

With the child calling Mordor his birthplace there weren’t that many of their kind to choose from. And the mere possibility of what that could probably mean was...unsettling.

He shivered again, pulling his heavy cloak some more over his body in a most inconspicuous manner. The sharp eyes of the child watched his every move, somehow almost as guarded as Thranduil himself and he returned the look with a silent frown. The more he watched the child, the more he saw him interact with his people, the more certain he got that his assumption wasn’t that far from truth. It would explain a lot. How the child was even able to live that long for example. Or why his eyes were that luminous. Or why he felt like the elfling was accumulating some kind of powerful atmosphere around him, growing with every day he gained his strength some more.

And he had to wonder. To which extent will that power grow? Right now it was only a mere child he had to deal with but that will change soon enough. Children always grew way too fast. He knew that too well from Legolas. One day they were cute, small and in need of your every support, the next couple of hundreds of years they were strong-minded, independent beings -and they would _leave_.

Sighing silently Thranduil suppressed a cold shiver running down his spine. He felt cold in his very bones and weary, but for the most part he was just tired. He hadn’t been able to find rest since overhearing the child, those words just kept resurfacing, gnawing at his everlasting fear -the certainty that Mordor would rise again eventually. Maybe not under Sauron, but there was always someone next in line in some way or another… And everything inside him was twisting and turning at his conjecture that this very being was standing before him right now.

He did not know why he was so certain of it, but he was. “ _My father. I...just watched him hurting her. She stopped screaming eventually, but he wouldn’t stop. He just...continued to hit her_.” Thranduil closed his eyes for a brief moment, but he was not granted with rest. This sounded just so much like the Dark Lord, there wasn’t much he could come up with to fight against that fear. “ _He told me afterwards that this shall be a lesson learned. My task was to remove the mess and throw her into a pit where all the rotten flesh was thrown to feed the beasts there. I was not allowed to take anything as a reminder of her and was strictly told to watch until every last piece was gone…_ ” The words seemed to get louder with each day... Eventually he had to acknowledge his fears and take action. But right now he found it not in his heart to deny the child the care it needed. It may have held back a very important, almost devastating information -that is if his fear is indeed true- but no sane soul would declare such a terrible truth with ease.

The child’s past as a slave hadn’t been a deception to find shelter right in the very heart of his kingdom after all, one could not act such cruelties. No child would be able to such a cunning misdeed. But...if his assumption was indeed correct, this was a child far from being ordinary and thus shall not be considered as such. There could very well be something dark, something entirely terrible hidden behind that innocent and pitiful disguise. But what if it wasn’t? What if the child was just another victim of the Shadow, what if there had been a purpose for it but it died together with it’s master? Well, but if it wasn’t he would be responsible for welcoming the elfling without a doubt in his halls. He would blemish his legacy and maybe some day be only remembered through songs of great despair and loss -like the Ringmaker...

He sighed. It was a very precarious situation, which was truly devastating for his sanity. How was he supposed to handle all this? He was no monster, he couldn’t ban a mere child from his realm; he couldn’t choose a death sentence for some creature that may or may not be innocent. -As he clearly missed to react to the statement of the child regarding the library, the elfling seemed insecure and eager to explain further.

“I...I am of course grateful for the granted permission to learn from you, but...as I see it we have kind of different ideas of what I want and what’s best for me.”

As the child was not continuing, Thranduil grew impatient.

“Could you be any more specific??”

Maybe he spoke too harsh with too much of his internal coldness into his voice for his guest winced and in a matter of seconds one could only watch as those exceptional eyes of his grew distant, with some kind of weak glint as if they were on the verge of being blown out by an invisible force. Immediately all mistrust was forgotten and the sindar felt nothing but regret for his outburst. He was stressed by the present events taking place, the growing discontent of his people, Legolas wandering around with a dwarf without consulting him in the first place or at least writing him -and now above all the questionably heritage of that young elf before him and the consequences that may have for his realm and himself.

But all of that gave him no right to act that short-tempered, especially considering the youth of his counterpart.

Meanwhile Nolaquen had stumbled -haunted again by a dead one. He couldn’t erase the false impression, this illusion of his own mind, as if standing right before the frightening yet very much anticipated figure of his father. And because he’d dropped his guard in the past couple of days as he felt more secure residing in here, it now hit him with brutal force. He was still shaken to the last bone of his body, almost ready to puke out of the sheer force of emotions hitting him. Blinking rapidly he tried to fight the blurry image his mind tricked him into seeing, desperately holding onto a bookshelf and in the process throwing some of it’s content to the ground.

With ragged intakes of breath he tried to fill his lungs, to disrupt the circle of terror. The sight before him, still the outlines of that soft and beautiful, yet extremely cold and cruel face; the slightly curled, long red hair that he knew felt like the finest silk; and those eyes glowing bright red with a promise of the destructive execution of that plan of his... To dominate Arda and thus fulfilling his innermost promise to his old master-for which he had been willing to lose everything for -in the long run even his sanity...

Perplexed Thranduil watched as the child failed to calm down, taking in breaths way too fast and thus without it reaching the depth of his lungs like needed to. Realization hit him like a fist right into his face would’ve. That behavior before his very eyes could not be false, for only truly overwhelming terror could force one to lose control like that. Thranduil knew all too well what the elfling was experiencing right now, how the depth of powerlessness could consume one, make one feel like drowning in the sea with no strength to get back to the shore…

Something inside him was still holding him back, telling him that this still could very much be some act to force him to feel compelled to trust this child, to take a liking to it. But there was no way the evil that had perished could’ve possibly known about that condition of his, the sudden moments of panic flooding his mind and leaving him powerless. He’d kept it from his own people all this time so it was all but impossible to be common knowledge for the dark lord of Mordor. But...why was he still denying to assist the child then? ...Was it because he was now confronted with a problem of his own that he damned too shameful to ever allow it to occur anywhere but in his own chambers? Or was it something entirely different?

The king blinked as he finally got out of his own all-consuming train of thoughts only to realize that the child was standing upright again. Trembling it may be, but still. And the most remarkable of it was that he was locking his eyes with his immediately, nothing but fiercely pride within. Something the king could not quite understand for he himself felt truly mortified every time such attacks hit him out of nowhere...

As for Nolaquen he was entirely proud of himself to have outlived such an animated imagination of the Shadow, of all the evil housing within his father yet again. He won the battle and thus was far from feeling ashamed of it. Azgesh would be proud of him for sure, maybe even granting him some grog to celebrate this victory, he’d done so before…

With a slight pang the elfling realized that he missed that stupid uruk. He missed all of them.

Maybe Azgesh and the others managed to survive? They all had been dragged far away and their bodies had not reappeared to the surface near them, which made his next master in line believe that there was no hope for Azgesh and the rest. No uruk would search for such that had not succeeded in a task. If they could not they were simply not worthy enough, that was their body of thought, it was practical and thus something highly regarded back at his home.

But Nolaquen was now resenting that decision of Ugbol and the others to leave them and he felt guilty for he had not fought to at least try to get them to search for Azgesh, Brazzur Lirdoth and those two others he could not remember the names of. He now felt like he had failed them. He should have tried to reach out to them, shouldn’t he? But why came those thoughts only now, where many days had passed since that happening?

And then it hit him. That...sense of...of _something_. He felt it in his bones, in his very soul. As frightening as his encounter with his father’s shadow had been, it revealed something to him that he had no access to before: He was as much bound to those creatures as He had been -his father had always declared it to be the other way around of course, but it surely works for both ways. But maybe Nolaquen was more connected to them for the elfling was truly born in the same darkness they had while his maker had been lured into it by great temptation, being called Mairon at that time, a loyal Maia of Aule -but that era had ended with him meeting that old master of his, Melkor. He never spoke of that of course, but Nolaquen deciphered his love of that former Valar almost immediately. At those rare moments of being together he got pictures, emotions -little pieces of a long gone past... Sometimes he would catch his father in his restless sleep crying out for his master...

Remembering that now he felt kind of hesitant regarding that good wish of the fine lord Celeborn, to simply "follow the path of love" to be able to keep away from the darkness. He felt like the truth was entirely more complicated than that. Because: hadn’t his father done exactly that? Hadn't he followed the alluring voice of love just to be led onto a path of darkness with no way of turning back? Vengeance and hate burning away his soul after the death of his loved one, diminishing it until almost nothing was left?

From the moment of his birth, the moment his father’s luminous eyes set onto his own, they had been connected somehow. He had always known if his father was angered or thoughtful or sad -for he’d felt all those things as if they were his own. He knew that it had been the other way around, too, and maybe that was the only reason his father had never been able to get rid of him entirely. And since Nolaquen was here in this realm of the Woodland elves he began to understand the depth of what it meant. If he’d only realized before...he could’ve done more. Maybe even prevent his father’s death? Maybe he could’ve stopped that awful plan of his without him being ripped out of this world? Maybe...

If he’d only known more back then. If he’d only been a little bit older, a bit stronger to be of any help! Or maybe he should’ve made himself more visible so his father hadn’t been able to ignore him like that to go on with his plans? Maybe if he’d worked hard enough he would’ve been able to be almost as important as that old master of him? Because: hadn't his father meddled with his vessel, with his body, to match that of his lost loved one to begin with? Out of sentiment it may have been and without a doubt he'd regretted it as soon as it had been done, but he'd never changed it. And Nolaquen was not certain why he never did. 

-“I think it shall be enough of studying our language for today, don’t you? ...Would you mind walking with me?”

Nolaquen blinked in confusion. His thoughts left him only with a headache. He knew it was no good in putting that much thought into the past for he could not change it. There was no way of knowing what would’ve been different if he’d tried harder, if he’d known more. Maybe all of those efforts would’ve just ended with him getting killed for good. But the urge to be able to see his father once again and tell him everything that was on his mind right now was strong. Besides, he had a feeling of missing something. Something of great importance... Maybe that would be what he would ask for in the Halls of Mandos?

Noruinif told him stories about the lore of the elves, about Lady Luthien and her plea to this great Vala. Noruinif had even mentioned his father already, but he only grazed the topic very carefully, watching Nolaquen’s every move while doing so. Which made the child wonder if his host was already suspecting the dark lord "Sauron" to be his maker. And maybe the king did so already, too. It would maybe explain his strange appearances over and over again. But if he suspected something, why wasn’t he voicing it? What was he waiting for? 

Concerned he waited for the king to speak up. It took a while and many twisting paths until that dark baritone cut through the silence. They were far away from the common paths everyone took. Somehow he was almost sure that they were back again in that part of the kingdom where no one was allowed to enter without the king’s consent. The royal gardens or something similar if the elfling remembered properly. Of which he was not entirely sure, Noruinif tended to talk a lot these days, explaining him all kinds of strange things one after another.

“I thought about you a lot these past days and I think it is time for you to make yourself useful. I am inclined in assigning you a task you’ll consent to and thus I am asking you if you’ve got anything in mind?”

“You...You want to know what I’m interested in?”

“For example. Maybe you already have some sort of ability that is of any use?”

The child did his best in guarding his facial expressions but Thranduil still saw the small glimpse of fear wakening inside it. Shoulders getting tense, hands flexing nervously and a straight face with a thin line of lips. He seemed to have hit a nerve. But this reaction alone was no prove of his suspicion being true. Maybe that behavior was all because of anxiety. Some soldiers felt inclined to hide their talents, too afraid of being treated differently or being seen as not strong enough. He had some of his people in mind, with hidden talents of their own kept in private out of the sheer fear of being seen with other eyes. A hardened warrior with a gift of mending clothes and knitting fine ornaments was indeed a strange picture in mind while hunting with said soldier...

“...I don’t think my talents can be of use here.”

“One may never know... Of which talents are we speaking of? Maybe I can come up with something?”

Nolaquen blinked. Not sure what to answer now and maybe starting to get pretty pissed. He was certain that this here was some kind of test, that the king assumed something indeed. But why wasn’t he asking him in a more direct manner? What was so hard in doing so? Why talking like that, as if he was too stupid to get what was really going on? Like he was not good enough to be honored with a straightforward question. ...As if the king was expecting him to lie to him or react in a violent manner.

Of course he in return should’ve expected such treatment from elves but he couldn’t help but to feel utterly mistreated. He should not be forced to feel guilty simply for being a child of someone that did great evil! He was his own person! But he maintained to stay calm, just barely, but he did. After some deep breaths he came to an answer he thought was good enough.

“...I am good at facing pain and if sustained enough I am a good fighter -at least if it is about life and death that is...", he had to think about those stupid sticks and the wooden puppets, "...And I happen to be good with beasts. I can tame them, make them do what I want.”

The last one made the king’s appearance somehow tense so he hurried to speak some more.

"For the most part animals are a lot easier for me to handle than...people in general. Beasts are easier to understand -and they happen to treat me with the same respect I grant them, something that I cherish most about them."

He shrugged but eyed the king with a hard glance. Thranduil needed a moment to think but eventually he came to a decision and met the child's glare with a small nod, thoroughly understanding the hidden accusation behind that last statement, but he couldn't blame the child in feeling mistreated so he let it be -for now. Even though he knew he didn't possess the ability anymore to approach someone so they may be inclined to trust him with their innermost secrets, he felt kind of hurt. Was he that far from being seen as a fair-minded king by now? How much exactly has he lost of himself already? Somehow he felt like a complete and utter stranger to himself and it frightened him...

"So shall be it. I will entrust Telirien with the task of taking care of you.", he saw the confusion on the child's face and added, "She works at the stables."

Nolaquen nodded. Maybe this would be nice. Getting to know the creatures here. Probably just horses. Nothing special. Nothing like home, where he'd cared for big graug or the caged caragors, some truly special beasts. His favorite to be precise. He loved their strong minds, their admirable pride, their grace while moving. Their seemingly untamable spirit... Sighing yet again he watched the ceiling high above them.

"...What is on your mind, young one?"

Nolaquen shivered out of the sheer longing that suddenly filled his whole being.

"...I miss home...", as the king did not say anything he dared to continue speaking right out of his very heart, "I miss the harsh earth under my toes. I miss the view over the big mountain, the warmth radiating from it... I miss the rough and yet admirable straightforward attitude of my brethren.", And with no more than a mere whiff of breath he added "...And I miss my father _so much_!"

With shock the child realized his own hot tears wandering down his cheeks and Thranduil kept wondering if he shall use this very moment to get clearance once and for all. But eventually he felt stuck. Already too entangled into the matter to decipher the best way to act now. It was foolish and he cursed himself for it. Luckily the elfling was not sensing his rising conflict. The elfling had stopped halfway, too occupied with watching a bright red flower in ache. Hesitantly he reached out to it, touching it's petals with care. As if he was fearing to ruin it with his touch alone. Smiling ruefully Nolaquen continued.

"He was far from being flawless and...and he killed my mother. And above all he did truly horrendous things most of the times... Maybe I should hate him, but I do not find it in my heart to do so." The child sighed, caressing the crimson red flower with such caution that it warmed the kings heart -out of sympathy and with it an ache too vast to name it. He felt like he was about to choke on the sorrow of the child alone. His words were as much a confession as Thranduil had initially intended to obtain with his invitation to this walk, but instead of clearance he got just more conflicted to begin with.

There was no way he would do anything now, even if all this was a malice plan of creeping in his realm to ruin it once and for all. For how could he voice against a child with such a devotion to his father even though that...this creature was the incarnation of evil? How big and gracious must his soul be for being able to still love his creator while knowing of his deeds? ...A small voice inside him was cutting through his marred soul even more as the realization hit him that he himself as a father was not receiving that kind of absolute love. Legolas didn't even wrote to him and Thranduil had to find out of that deep connection his son shared with that dawrf through his own messengers.

The child sighed, looking at the king with a weary expression.

"You know... I think a lot about those words the kind lord Celeborn said to me at our first meeting... But I find them lacking. Something is off with that good wish, as sincere and kind as it was intended."

"To which words are you referring to?", Thranduil asked in confusion.

"He asked of me to trust in myself and those I feel compelled to, ' _for love will lead you astray from that dark path you have come from'_. -It sounds so... easy, don't you think?"

Thranduil frowned upon those words, they sounded wise and entirely like Celeborn indeed. But for his liking the child was addressing him too informal by now, which was his own fault. There may be no way of turning back from that now -and a small part of him, maybe the only part of him still being him, was glad about it.

"They sound just _so nice_ , just like a lot of your elven words truly... But they are too good to be true, to be part of what is reality", Thranduil's eyes widened in shock, no one would call out such things that bluntly, nevertheless a child, "I mean, one cannot think for real that love alone will pacify all evil deeds that may yet come? It is foolish and...and simply _not right_ to say. Those are pretty false hopes and in my opinion such things tend to be harmful in their own way."

Interested in that strange yet not entirely false view of the child Thranduil watched it in wonder. His words spoke of a lesson learned, but he didn't explain it any further and the sindar found that he was not ready to hear any more of it as it is. He had enough to ponder about already.

But somehow it wasn't entirely as bad as he'd thought it would. His fears were more tamed than before, even though he got his answer. And somehow he respected the child for declaring his profound love for his maker in defiance of everything. It spoke of a caring and utterly loyal spirit indeed.

But maybe that loyalty was what he should fear the most.


End file.
